


I Didn't Mean to Kiss You (but I Regret Nothing!)

by Ghrelt



Series: We Taught Ourselves to Love [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), The Old Guard - Fandom
Genre: Brief Internalised Homophobia But they Get Over it Quick I Promise, Kissing, M/M, Nicky's Inexperienced, Written in 3rd person I just liked the title, Yusuf Doesn't Mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25335370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghrelt/pseuds/Ghrelt
Summary: Unintentional first kiss
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: We Taught Ourselves to Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830847
Comments: 67
Kudos: 806





	I Didn't Mean to Kiss You (but I Regret Nothing!)

**Author's Note:**

> CW: As stated in the tags, there's some internalised homophobia in this. I tried to treat it gently and they get over it real quick. I didn't think they could have come from a background that didn't teach them that men weren't allowed to love each other. As we all know, they get very, very over that. So I touched on it without dwelling.

They walk along the road together for long, long days. Deserters. Or something along those lines. But they cannot continue the way they were and they cannot continue as they are and stay. Is it really deserting to go after you died in battle for your cause?

At night they share a fire, and a meal. Silent, but for the occasional word as they pass the cooked fish or a hank of bread. They don’t understand each other anyways. Well. Not the words. Not yet. The body language is pretty self-explanatory, especially when surrounding food.

They don’t discuss staying together. They have no way to. 

But together they remain.

Each seems to understand that the extraordinary gift they have -- that they share -- must be a sign of some sort. And whether it’s a sign of a shared divine mission or if it points to something else, the only way to find the answer is by the other’s side.

Peculiar dilemma, that.

The kiss doesn’t come until much, much later.

After Nicolo develops the strangest fascination with Joe’s hands. With the strength of them. The callouses he sees on his palms. The short, square nails. With watching the motion of the stone on his blade or how he carves a stick by the fire.

After Yusuf finds himself staring at a pair of broad shoulders more than he really ought. But they’re huge. And very distracting. And can he really be blamed?

The thing is, the men are so very _different_. Yet the things they’ve been taught are the same. That the other man is an abomination before God. That it is their duty to rid the world of the taint that is the other and his beliefs.

That what will someday be as easy and natural as breathing, is completely and utterly forbidden.

They dare not so much as think of it now.

But time has its way of buffing out the jagged edges. They stopped killing each other, didn’t they? That was the start.

And one day, months and months after they met, it happens. Yusuf is telling one of his elaborate tales, eyes lit by more than just firelight and hands moving in broad strokes to illustrate something Nicolo only understands about one out of every five words of. But he’s smiling and he’s so animated that suddenly those months of gradual building coalesce into a single moment of complete and utter yearning.

Nicolo stills, repulsed at his own thoughts. Sharp edges not worn off yet digging their way into his chest and closing his throat.

Yusuf sees it, stilling on his own. Stops his story mid-sentence to ask Nicolo what’s wrong.

The warrior is even paler than his usual countenance in the dusk, firelight dancing on his skin. He blinks. Shakes his head. 

Yusuf reaches out. Sets his hand on Nicolo’s sleeved forearm. Speaks more words his companion doesn’t understand.

All Nicolo sees in those eyes that shone with mirth a moment ago is kindness. In the tone, too, soft and even in words that flow beautifully off Yusuf’s tongue. Concern, and for a man he killed without a thought so many times.

It’s too much. The nearness and the compassion and the touch and he’s so, so close.

Before now the only way they’d ever touched is when they slept with their backs together that one cold, cold night.

He surges forward without making the decision to, his body deciding for him that if this gets him cut down for the affront, it was worth it. 

The first brush of lips is harder than he intended. Almost more an assault than a tender touch, his lips held closed and he finds himself frozen in that position, half kneeling in the dirt next to a fire with his face mashed to his companion’s.

Yusuf’s eyes go wide and a surprised sound escapes his throat as Nicolo lurches forward at him and. Hits him with his face. Wait. No. Hits him with his lips.

As kisses go, Yusuf’s had better.

And yet.

His hand clenches on Nicolo’s arm. His head angles and he pulls back just enough to ease the pressure to a gentler touch. His lips move, warm and sure, over the other man’s.

Nicolo’s never had better. Never had worse, either. He left the priesthood for the crusades and didn’t exactly stop for any romantic assignations along the way.

The rasp of beard against his cheeks is ticklish. Or itchy. Well. It’s unfamiliar, at least. For both. But no blow comes for Nicolo and instead Yusuf’s other hand comes up to cup the back of his neck and that warm press goes on for long, long moments and by the end of it Nicolo’s hand has turned to grasp Yusuf’s forearm and trails of moisture run down their cheeks.

They stare into each other’s eyes, shocked and awed and amazed and drowning in each other.

It is days later before they kiss again. Days of gazes catching for only a moment before skittering away. Neither knowing what they shared or why or _what it means_. Even if they were inclined to speak of it, they can’t. They yet lack the grasp of each other’s language to truly discuss anything.

Besides, how does one even talk about that?

Finally, it’s a battle that breaks the tension between them. An ambush at oasis by thugs. Nicky takes the first hit as he bends to fill his canteen, an arrow through the shoulder that has him crying out and sprawling into the water as Yusuf draws his sword and turns to face the threat.

Yusuf does an excellent job of dispatching these fools as Nicolo sputters back to his feet and stalks out of the water. He gets his weapon in hand just as Yusuf finishes the last of them.

The sword falls to the sand as he looks down at a wound that isn’t there. The arrow didn’t pierce through. Yusuf will have to pull it out. 

Yusuf cleans his sword before returning to Nicolo’s side, guiding him gently by the shoulders to turn around. He counts down before yanking out the arrow, trusting his partner to understand the cadence if not the words. As he reaches one, he pulls.

Nicolo screams and when the cry from his lips dies out he finds strong arms around him. A solid, strong body holding him as a cheek presses against his beard. Words, soft and comforting flowing from lips next to his ear as his body painfully knits itself together.

Yusuf didn’t mean to. But this is the first time he’s seen the man in pain and he can’t stand it. Can’t just stand there and watch. So he turns him, pulls him in, and hangs on. Ignoring the fact that he’s getting soaking wet and the tall crusader’s dripping all over him.

Nicolo looks down as the pain recedes, and the man is so close. Those lips just a tilt of a chin away.

They both close the distance this time. Lips part. Hands cup cheeks. Tongues explore, first tentatively. Then demanding.

When they break away, each is breathing as though he’d died and was drawing breath for the first time.

And perhaps they are. Because this time, gazes hold. Linger. Yusuf smiles, a vulnerable little expression that draws Nico’s gaze. Nico drops his forehead to Yusuf’s shoulder and the man pulls him back in, pressing a hand to his lower back and running fingers through his hair.

Nico just hangs on as his entire universe shifts.

It is not the kiss, but this. This is where they begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it. I love comments and your enjoyment drives me to write more!
> 
> Come join the [discord! ](https://discord.gg/kDJpjxx)


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